Sixteen
THE MINUTE CODY REPORTED FOR WORK THAT FRIDAY HE GOT word that the principal wanted to see him. Since he’d started teaching and coaching at Lyle, he’d had nothing but glowing reports from the administration — especially the principal, Valerie Baker.
But now, as he walked to her office, he began to doubt himself. Maybe Coach Oliver had complained about him … or possibly one of his students hadn’t appreciated the way he’d handled a PE class. He couldn’t think of any single situation, but there was no way to tell. He walked toward Ms. Baker’s door and smiled at the ladies who made up the front office staff. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” The woman closest to him was younger than the other three. She always went out of her way to be friendly, but today her eyes danced and she seemed about to burst. Like she could barely contain a secret.
Cody hesitated, but only for half a second before he finished the walk to Ms. Baker’s office. After a quick knock on the door, she welcomed him inside. As always, the woman was the picture of professionalism. Her desk—though a little scattered—was full of probably half a dozen projects she must’ve been working on. She motioned to the chair opposite her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Coleman.”
Whatever it was, she sounded serious. “Thank you.” He sat and folded his hands, not sure if he should make small talk or just wait. He decided on the latter.
Once she was situated, she pulled a piece of paper from a file and studied it. “Coach Oliver won’t be returning to Lyle.” She lifted her eyes, the consummate professional. “I want to explain the reason.” She paused. “This is a private matter, Mr. Coleman.”
Cody wanted to quietly rejoice, but he needed to wait. He didn’t wish ill on Coach Oliver or anyone. No matter how difficult the man had been to work with. He had to hand it to Ms. Baker. The coach had been nothing but rude to her, questioning her authority and talking behind her back — at least as far as Cody had seen. But here the woman refused to celebrate the man’s departure from their staff. Instead she stayed matter-of-fact as she launched into the explanation.
“Coach Oliver is a Vietnam vet,” Ms. Baker sighed. “Did you know that?”
“I didn’t.” Immediately Cody was seized with regret. If he’d been paying a little more attention he might’ve figured that out, right? The man had certain pins and insignias on his jacket, the one that hung in his office. But Cody had never been invited in, never spent more than a minute or two at the man’s doorway. He’d never had the chance to ask about the jacket or whether the man had served their country.
“Yes.” Ms. Baker studied the paper again. “I imagine … at some point back in time, Coach Oliver and you would’ve had a lot in common.” She sighed. “From what I know now, the war changed him. The strain — even after so many years — has gotten worse, apparently.”
An uneasy feeling spread through Cody’s chest. What was she saying? Could she possibly have known about the nightmares he suffered from, or the way he could, for no reason, suddenly smell the body odor of an Iraqi soldier the moment before he beat Cody? He swallowed, his eyes on his knees.
“Anyway, he’s gone out on a stress disability. The memories of war … the rejection … all of it. I guess it weighs heavy on him.”
There had been no way to tell any of this, and Cody was almost too surprised to respond. The coach had continued his verbal abuse right up until yesterday. Now—on a Friday midway through April — he was suddenly unable to come to work? What did that say about his performance and attitude, his treatment of the guys? Was it all part of his stress? If so, why hadn’t he gone out on leave a year ago?
Another sigh slipped from Ms. Baker. “Mr. Coleman, I realize that Coach Oliver has been very difficult to work with. He left us no apology, no explanation for the way he treated students and staff. Truthfully, I should’ve fired him a long time ago.” Her voice softened. “But I knew about his time in Vietnam. My father served with him.”
It was another revelation, and Cody felt his expression change. “Did … did they know each other?”
“Yes.” There was no hiding the sorrow in her eyes. “They were friends. My father died saving Coach Oliver’s life.” She narrowed her eyes, as if she couldn’t help but remember how the man used to be. “Back then … he was a much … much different man.”
“I … didn’t know.” Cody felt like someone had sucked the air from the room. So much of the past suddenly made sense. Ms. Baker’s reason for keeping the coach on staff, the man’s bitterness, his anger toward life. And in as much time as it took to exhale, all Cody could think about was himself. How would he be around people a year from now? Ten years or twenty? Would memories of the war haunt him forever, change him into someone even he wouldn’t recognize?
“What I’m trying to say, is that the school board has given approval to offer you a full-time position at Lyle, Mr. Coleman. With the understanding that you will finish your teaching credential, of course. And …” she smiled, “we’d like you to take over as the varsity football coach.”
Cody should’ve seen it coming … as soon as the principal told him Coach Oliver wasn’t returning, the obvious conclusion was that he might take over. But still the news hit him like a sudden wind, and for a few seconds he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was being offered his first full-time teaching and coaching position — the dream he’d spent years imagining and planning for. God had worked good out of all of it — his mother’s time in prison, his decision to leave Bloomington, his transfer to the Indianapolis campus to finish his education. He never would’ve learned about this position otherwise.
“Mr. Coleman?” A slightly bewildered expression came over Ms. Baker. “Are you … considering my offer?”
“No!” He spoke before he had time to think and then he laughed and shifted in his seat … nervous, excited energy bursting through him. “I mean, yes! Yes, I’ll accept the position. Of course.” He laughed again, trying to get his mind around all that had just happened. Coach Oliver’s situation was sad, and Cody wanted to talk to the man at some point, explain how much he could empathize with the man’s time at war. But for now it meant the kids were free! Free to enjoy football and believe in themselves and begin an entirely new and positive season at Lyle High.
“Very well,” she laughed, too. “I was beginning to wonder if this was something you’d be interested in.”
“Beyond interested.” He shook his head, still searching for the right words. “I’ve been praying for those kids … for a miracle for them and the program.” He wasn’t sure how much he should say. “I’m sorry about Coach Oliver, but … yes.” He could feel his smile filling his face. “I’m beyond thankful.” He stood to shake her hand. “You won’t be sorry, Ms. Baker. I’ll give those boys everything I have.”
She smiled, her eyes warm. “I believe you.”
He signed paperwork next, and then it was time to resume his place in the classroom — no longer a part-time teacher, but a full-fledged instructor at Lyle High. The students might not have noticed it, but Cody had no doubt he was standing taller, walking more confidently and believing in God’s plans for his life more than ever before.
All through the day he couldn’t shake his smile, not through five PE classes, and not as he dressed out for football practice and headed to the field. “Hey, Coach,” DeMetri caught up with him as they walked to the nearest end zone. “What’s up with you?”
“Smitty!” Cody couldn’t have hidden his excitement if he wanted to. “Is it a great day to be a Buckaroo, or what?”
“Uh … I guess.” For a few steps DeMetri said nothing, just kept walking and casting strange glances at Cody. “Where’s Coach Oliver?”
“We’ll talk about that in a minute.” From this day on Lyle football would be a different team, a different experience. He would care about these kids and invest in them, and he would teach them the game of football the way it had been taught to him — at the highest level, with intensity, hard work, and compassion. And with a sense of teamwork and camaraderie that would change this group of guys from a fledgling team to a family. Cody grinned and chuckled again. “I mean let me tell you, Smitty. It is a great day to be a Buckaroo.”
They reached the field, where other players waited and still others were running in from the parking lot. Cody stopped and faced DeMetri, put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and looked straight at him. “I’ll say this.” He could feel his eyes shining with possibility. “God always hears us when we pray, isn’t that right?”
DeMetri still looked baffled. “Yes, sir … of course.”
“And you, Smitty … you never stopped praying, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right.” DeMetri’s mouth hung open a little and he blinked a few times. “Can I … can I ask what’s going on?”
“It’s good, Smitty.” He winked at the player. “God heard your prayers.” Cody chuckled and turned to the group of players gathering around him. Coach Oliver’s troubles were a sad situation, and maybe one day Cody could help be part of the solution. But for now all that mattered was the change in command here at Lyle. “Alright, everyone. Bring it in. I’ve got an announcement!”
CODY PULLED UP IN FRONT OF TARA’S HOUSE and checked his watch. Cheyenne was already here, and he was ten minutes late. Not surprising, with how well practice had gone. They were in such a groove, making such headway, and clicking so well that they’d gone ten minutes over.
Not until he got in his truck and checked his phone did he see the invitation from Tara for dinner that night.
“Cheyenne will be there … so I’ll just take that as a yes, Cody.” Her laughter filled the phone line with joy and life. “Besides … what else you got going on this Friday night?”
A few times in the past week Cody had talked to Cheyenne — about little Kassie and how she was doing and about Cheyenne’s schooling and his. She was one of his only friends in this new season of life, someone who had filled the empty places when he might’ve talked to Bailey or her family. He wasn’t anywhere near as close to Cheyenne, of course, and he didn’t have feelings for her like he still did for Bailey. But she was kind and intelligent, and he enjoyed the newness of her friendship more than he thought he might.
Tara was at the door to greet him, talking a mile a minute about work and the water heater bursting last week and how Indianapolis was one of the last great cities because even a repair man had the sense to use his manners and get his work done in a timely manner.
It wasn’t until they were seated at the table around meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy that Tara turned to him and cocked her head. “Now, Cody, I’ve been doing all the talking … but I know sure as the roof over my head that something’s up in that big ol’ mind of yours.” She kept her eyes on Cody, but poked an elbow in Cheyenne’s direction. “You see it, Chey? You see what I’m talking about?”
“I do.” Cheyenne giggled. Tara left neither of them any choice but to enjoy every minute with her. Chey turned her pretty eyes to Cody. “Football practice must’ve gone well, maybe?”
“Yes. Very well.” Cody laughed and set down his fork. It felt good to have these two women know him so well, to sit around a dinner table with people he felt comfortable sharing with, and who could read his expression as easily as if he were family. He’d already told them both about the tough situation with Coach Oliver and the way the players seemed defeated and discouraged and the season was still six months off.
“Actually, yes … something’s up.” He drew a long breath. “I was offered a full-time teaching position at Lyle today.”
Tara slapped her hand on the table, pushed back, and stood. “You were not!” Her hands flew to her face and she turned one way, then the other, like she wanted to run a few laps in celebration, but given the size of the house, the idea wasn’t possible. She lifted her hands toward heaven, talking fast and loud. “Merciful God, … what a great answer!”
“I know.” He laughed, enjoying Tara’s reaction. “I can’t believe it.” He paused, letting the moment build. “And … they made me the head football coach.”
“Cody!” Cheyenne’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s amazing! What happened?”
“Yes,” Tara muttered a few Praise Jesus’ under her breath as she sat back down. “I’ve been praying for that school to come to their senses ever since I heard about all the troubles over there, so tell us … what happened?”
Without getting too detailed, Cody explained that Coach Oliver needed a stress disability … unresolved issues from decades ago during Vietnam. Even as he said it he felt a pang of fear. What if that’s what people said about him decades from today? He pushed the thought from his mind once more. “I told the boys today at practice.” He grinned, ignoring the way his hands suddenly shook. Breathe, Cody … you won’t be like Coach Oliver. Not ever.
“I’ll bet they celebrated loud as little girls at a princess party.” Tara clapped her hands a few times and nodded big. She had made it clear on a number of occasions that she thought there was a place in prison for anyone who berated kids. Especially young men. This time she pointed straight up. “That-a-way, God … You always get the final word.”
Cody felt himself relax again. This was a celebration, a happy moment. No reason to think about war or the ramifications his time in Iraq might have twenty or thirty years from now. He forced himself to focus. “They were happy … but first thing we did was pray for Coach Oliver.”
“Yes.” Cheyenne’s take was slightly more serious than Tara’s. “The man needs our prayers.”
“I’ll tell you what that man needs …” Tara’s expression took on that of a mother bear about to settle a score. But she must’ve caught the earnestness in Cheyenne’s tone, because she visibly relaxed and her wrinkled brow smoothed some. “Prayer.” She cleared her throat and nodded, clearly working to convince herself. She folded her hands in an attempt at sweetness. “Prayer. That’s exactly what he needs.”
They all laughed, and Cody explained that he was careful not to let the practice become a discussion about Coach Oliver’s shortcomings. “We put all our energy into the practice, and I’ll tell you what …” he shook his head and exhaled through pursed lips. “Best practice I’ve ever seen from those guys.” He looked from Tara to Cheyenne. “I’m beyond excited for the season.”
The conversation moved from Cody’s new position, to good news about Kassie, whose blood counts seemed to be better than ever. “She’s not out of the woods, but she’s getting there.” Cheyenne glowed, obviously taken by the little girl. “We’ll keep praying.”
“That we will!” Tara punctuated the air with her fork. “Our God’s a great God. He’s working in that little girl’s life, I have no doubt.”
Dinner ended, and after dishes Cheyenne came to him and touched his arm. “Want to take a walk?”
Cody looked at Tara, but she was already waving her hand at him. “Cody Coleman, don’t make me lead you outta this house by your hand.” She waved at him again, making a brushing motion toward the door. “Take that girl for a walk! Don’t make her ask you twice. And whatever you do, don’t ask me to go along. I’ve got a boatload of email to answer.” When they still hesitated, she brushed her hands in their direction again. “Git … git! You hear me?”
Both Cheyenne and Cody were still laughing as they headed outside and down the steps. The mid-April night was warmer than it had been a week ago. Cody had a feeling spring would be beautiful, and for a split moment he remembered the flowers in the Flanigans’ backyard. They would be beautiful this time of year.
“I … I hope this is okay.” Cheyenne slipped her hands in the back pockets of her blue jeans. She glanced at him, her pace slow and easy. “Taking a walk, I mean.”
“Of course.” He looked at the sky through the maple trees that lined Tara’s street. The leaves weren’t open yet, but the buds were close. Stars hung low in the sky overhead, and the night air was still. “I like walking — especially after dinner.”
Quiet came over them for a little while. They walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. “Beautiful night.”
“It is.” Again they were quiet, but Cody could sense a restlessness in her, like she wanted to talk about more than the weather but she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He slowed, and caught her eyes as they rounded the corner. “What’s on your mind, Chey?”
She smiled. “I like that.”
“What?” He felt entirely at ease.
“Just … the way you call me ‘Chey.’” The way she said it sounded like she was saying her name and describing her personality all at the same time. Her painful past made it easy to understand why she might be a little more shy, a bit more reserved. She gave him a pretty smile. “Chey’s what my friends call me.”
“And I’m your friend.” They might not know each other all that well yet, but he could’ve told her anything. He trusted her.
“Exactly.” She smiled, laughing a little, her eyes straight ahead again. “Now that we have that settled.” Again she waited, and gradually her smile fell flat. She crossed her arms, as if a slight shiver had come over her. They were about to pass a small city park, and she pointed at a bench ahead in the darkness. She glanced his way. “Can we sit? For a few minutes?”
“Sure.” Cody had no idea what was on her mind, but he wasn’t worried. They reached the bench and sat … a few inches between them. Here, with trees all around them, the night felt cooler than before. He angled himself so he could see her. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. With me.” She turned, pulling one knee up onto the bench. “It’s just … earlier when you talked about that coach … his time at Vietnam and his stress disability.” She narrowed her eyes, as if she were searching beyond his eyes to his soul. “I saw something change in you. For the first time since I’ve known you … it was like you were afraid.”
Her keen awareness made his heart beat faster, and after only a few seconds, he could no longer look into her eyes, no longer sit here and let her see straight through him. He breathed in slowly through his nose and stared at a spot on the ground a few feet ahead. Should he tell her? Should she know about his nightmares and flashbacks? He was about to look up and tell her everything. How he could still smell the rancid Iraqi prison and how he could feel the sharp butt of the rifle against his ribs. How sometimes he still felt trapped in the same cage that had held him back then.
But just as he turned to her, just as he was about to speak, another image came to mind … one as strong and powerful as any flashback he’d had about Iraq. The face of Bailey Flanigan. He raked his fingers through his short dark hair and released a sound that was as much nervous laugh as it was a groan. “Nah … no fear, Chey.” And in as much time as it took to feel her honest eyes on his, Cody stood. “I guess I feel a little sorry for the old coach.” He held his hand out to her. “Come on … we have to get back.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it put a clear end to the moment.
“Cody, …” Regret filled her eyes as she took his hand and stood before him. “I didn’t mean to push, I just … I could be wrong, but I thought …”
He made a conscious choice to release her hand as soon as she was on her feet. But even so, a part of him wanted to hug the kind-hearted girl before him and tell her exactly how right she had been. Be careful, Cody … don’t hurt her … you’re not ready … Bailey’s smile flashed in his mind again. He couldn’t tell Cheyenne anything as personal as his struggles with memories from war. Opening up like that would only complicate things. Instead he hid his fear below the surface of his heart and found a careful smile. “Good idea … taking a walk.”
They picked up their pace some on the way back, and Cody kept the conversation light — the drills they’d run in practice, the antics between some of the kids in his third-period PE class, and his roommate’s seeming inability to wash even a single dish. When they returned to Tara’s, they were laughing, the brief awkwardness from earlier gone.
But that night and the next morning he couldn’t shake his thoughts of Bailey. Their separation was his fault, he was aware of that. And now that so much time had passed, she was probably no longer looking for texts or calls from him. No longer wishing he hadn’t left. Still, with everything in him he wanted to see her, spend a few hours with her.
So after breakfast he cleaned his apartment, started a load of laundry, climbed in his truck, and did the only thing he could do. He drove to the closest movie theater and bought a single ticket to see the movie he had avoided until now.
“One for Unlocked, please.”
He found a seat near the back, and since it was the first showing of the day, the auditorium wasn’t half full. The previews took forever, but finally, alone in the darkness, he had what he wanted. Two hours of Bailey Flanigan … her heart and kindness, her love for family and God and life. The movie amazed him, not only the tender storyline and powerful message, but the reality that Bailey was a gifted actress, able to convey her heart and soul on the silver screen.
Not that he was surprised.
He soaked in all of it, and as the closing scene came to an end, as the credits rolled and the theater began to empty, he could only be grateful he hadn’t opened up too much to Cheyenne. Because he knew one thing after spending two hours with Bailey here in an Indianapolis theater, even if she was — in reality—light years away.
Bailey Flanigan owned his heart. And like his time in Iraq, one way or another his feelings for Bailey would last as long as he lived.